


Find Me

by Tightredpants



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Time, M/M, idk read this, idk what to even tag this, they don't know they're in love but they are, this is an inspired work, ummmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22568950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tightredpants/pseuds/Tightredpants
Summary: All I ask of you: come to me, find me.
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 34
Kudos: 86





	1. A Warm, Well-Lighted Place

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! :) Here with another one. I'm really proud of this, I've worked on this for over a month. This is all inspired by Andre Aciman, especially his book Enigma Variations. I highly suggest the read! Thank you to Aciman for giving me such beautiful prose and inspiring me to write this! I've read CMBYN, Enigma Variations, and Find Me by him, this is an open letter to him to give me more pining gays for my survival. I hope you enjoy!!!! Also, the name of the first chapter is from an Ernest Hemingway short story! I promise I'm not talented LOL

_ I know nothing about you. I don’t know your name, who you are, where you live, what you do… You’re unaware that I long for you, and that every night I lull myself to sleep, thinking that I’m cradled in your arms and you in mine.  _

It had been months, at least. Every day, except for weekends, Miles would go through all the phases of love and all the stages of grief in a span of moments. 

Starting as he walked in, Miles’ heart raced, seeing the man maneuver around people, taking extra care not to bump into anyone, and find his seat. Always the table closest to the large window, only enough room for one occupant. Based on his frequency of coming to the same cafe, never failing to be alone, Miles inferred his act of loneliness was not feigned. But how? If half of the people he interacted with were as enamored by him as Miles was, he would never be alone. 

Warmth grew and spread inside Miles as he watched his routine, the same every day. Out of his worn leather bag came a notebook, and pen, placed right in front of him. Next was a book, whatever he was reading at the time, but never a computer, phone, or tablet. He meticulously placed these things before he’d order his drink; an Americano that was doctored with far too much sugar once he’d received it. 

Miles’ feelings shifted as he continued, his fine lips blowing on his drink to cool it down, slender and well kept fingers placing trusses of long amber hair behind his ears, his large doe like eyes dancing around the room. But as desire grew, lust grew faster, exploding inside Miles whenever one of those beautiful digits would slip between his lips, sometimes resting there, sometimes licked to grasp a page, always alluring and so subtly erotic Miles made himself look away. 

Longing replaced lust, when after Miles crossed his legs to hide his hardness, the feeling of intrusion sank in.  _ Let me in your world,  _ he wanted to say to him,  _ let me read with you, write for you, worship you, let me make you come.  _ The man hardly 20 feet away from Miles might as well be in another continent, on another planet, for he was in a world all his own. Dutifully he sat, never distracted by the noises, set on his work, never procrastinating by people watching as he sipped his drink -the reason he’d never noticed Miles pining so earnestly over him, over his body, his worn books, his scent, his mind. 

Grief settled quietly as Miles relished in all he didn’t have; the quiet moments with him, knowing how his face looked when he orgasmed, how he liked his tea, which biscuits he preferred, did he wear pajamas? Or did he prefer to sleep naked? What body wash did he use? What did he look like as a boy? Just as sweet and kind? Did he have siblings? When did he first have his heart broken? These questions were left unanswered as Miles allowed his coffee to grow cold, the world festering as he realized his state. 

He ordered another coffee.  _ He must be a student _ , Miles thought, which led him to wonder why he’d go in the opposite direction of the university library, to this cafe, which was always teeming with people. Miles had never seen him on campus, or anywhere, besides here. Miles knew this because he sought him out everywhere, giving himself slight heart attacks with every shaggy-haired svelte frame he encountered. But as if he were an apparition, the elusive angel was only to be seen in one cafe, five days a week. Despite his regularity, he never spoke to the baristas, and the other regulars never paid him mind, besides Miles. If not for his ever present skepticism, Miles would almost believe he was seeing things, a hallucination of a lover from a past life. 

Miles grieved for him as he watched, he was writing with a great concentration, every so often setting down his pen and taking a sip from his drink while reading over what he’d just written. Slowly Miles accepted his fate, as he did every day, and a sense of relief came to him.  _ There would always be tomorrow _ . 

Except, today was still in authority, and as fate would have it, the man broke his routine. After taking a languid sip, and gently raking a finger over what Miles knew to be sweet, slightly sticky, coffee flavored lips, he lifted his head from the notebook. And that’s when Miles’ world flipped, when his sweeping gaze landed so timidly on him, so soft that it wouldn’t have been felt if Miles was not already looking at him. His long eyelashes weighed his eyelids down for a blink, and for the briefest second him and Miles held eye contact. And in that second, Miles was in love again. The moment was gone just as quickly, the man smiling shyly and ducking his head, and Miles wanted to reach out, to grasp the moment to have forever. Had he known this whole time?  _ Did he want me to watch him? Was he imploring me to come to him, be with him? Was this an invitation? _

He didn’t look up for the rest of his stay, and Miles was too starstruck to think of anything else, not after the lad left or while Miles walked home, or when he climbed into bed that night and grabbed his aching cock, searching for the relief Miles knew he’d only have with him. He rolled the moment around in his mind, concluding it was indeed an invitation; he never even made eye contact with the baristas, let alone a stranger. Miles wanted him, and soon, Miles would find out if he wanted him, too. 

—

The initial shock kept Miles away for days, it was nearing Wednesday and yet he couldn’t convince his stagnant feet to carry him. His mind kept volleying the possibilities of such an interaction, waging from a simple acknowledgement,  _ I see you, come to me _ , or the opposite, an uncomfortable  _ please stop staring.  _ Miles knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away for much longer; the implicit thrill in the prospect of winding himself up and through the mysterious cafe devotee was eating away at any resolve he thought he had. Perhaps, Miles thought, his incessant silent beckoning had somehow finally managed to manifest itself, and his desires were heard. But instead of living with his convoluted fantasies, he devised something that was just shy of a real plan. 

He returned to the cafe, earlier than when his boy usually showed himself, and wrote a note. No one else ever sat at that tiny little table; for in the summer the sun beat down upon it mercilessly, and in the winter the heavy condensation on the windows from foggy mornings would leave your coat wet. He had no reason to worry his message would slip into the wrong hands, and with only a short amount of time before his future lover showed himself, his plan was almost foolproof. On a slip of paper, he wrote just a simple passage, careful not to be too gratuitous but enough to make the man act, to spark something inside him. 

_ I don’t know your name, or who you are. But I see you every day, and you thrill and excite me to no end. I would love to get to know you.  _

He ended the note with his number, despite never seeing the man with a phone. He weighed the piece of paper with a sugar canister, and left with just enough time to see the man in question walking down the street, like a ghost who’s scheduled to haunt a particular table for a few hours. Miles waited under the facade of lighting a cigarette until he went inside, the door wafting the faint scent of vanilla towards him as it swung open and closed. Today Miles was granted no such luxuries as a look or a smile, but that would all change in time. Under the cover of a bustling sidewalk, Miles stood in front of one of the large plate glass windows situated on either side of the main door. He saw just enough; the man walking up to the table, seeing his note, reading it, and Miles’ favorite part, folding it back and putting it in his jacket pocket. Miles left promptly after, his mission was complete. He felt relieved, excited, but also terrified: the ball was in his court. Miles could continue to daydream unabashedly from afar, but there was a finality in the notes of rejection; if he decided not to contact Miles, to not acknowledge him, that would undoubtedly ruin his dreams. The continuation of their relationship, whatever it may or may not be, was at the hands of the stoic celestial body from which he had barely heard two words uttered. But after deciding that today he would be an optimist, Miles liked his chances.

—

He knew better than to expect to hear from his acquaintance -if he could even call him that- immediately, but that in no way stopped him from jumping at every notification he received, his heart racing every time his phone rang. What could he truly expect? He had crossed the line, from his fantasies into the entirely too real scenario of playing with a real person. There was a thrill in that, like the excitement one gets when opening a new piece of technology that requires you to sit down and figure out how it works, each knob and each menu setting; but still bypassing the tutorials so you could find your own way around it. However, there was no manual or tutorial to lean on if Miles was to find himself hopelessly lost. 

It was late when Miles’ phone lit up, late enough that he’d already retired for the evening after indulging in enough late night television to make him sluggish. He almost didn’t check it, for a moment forgetting the day’s events, but his brain caught up quickly enough. He knew it was him, the string of numbers unfamiliar to Miles staring at him from his screen, and his stomach lurched at the sight. Immediately, he put the device down, his fingers and toes tingling like he was standing on a high precipice, adrenaline making his palms sweat. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his hands on his pajama bottoms, and steadied himself before picking up the device again. He hadn’t been this suddenly anxious in years; as if he was about to open an acceptance or rejection letter from his top choice university. In many ways, the feeling was the same -this  _ was _ an acceptance or rejection letter. There was one side of him that didn’t even want to know the conclusion, who was content with the knowledge that he did reach out, no dreams were crushed. He could continue safely in his dreamworld, for there was no rejection there, no heartache. But another side of him, a bigger side, would never allow the message to be left unread, and he knew it would be absolute torture until he finally opened the message. Miles sat perfectly still as the battle waged on in his mind, when finally, the other side won and it was decided. He carefully unlocked his phone, paying no mind to the cold sweat forming on his nape, and nervously tapped on the new message.

Miles tutted as he read, once, twice, three times, deciphering the tone, voice, any distinguishing personality in the short string of words. They read, 

_ Well, you’ve intrigued me. _

No greeting, no polite uncertainty. It was rigid, but somehow inviting, letting Miles know he wasn’t as impossible as one would assume. A man who would barely entertain small talk with baristas had stunned Miles into a loss for words. He could already tell there was a game being set, and he was more than willing and ready to begin his chase. 

Miles contemplated how he could reply;  _ Can I taste you? How did you know the note was for you? Have you watched me too?  _ None seemed to fit; there was a universe full of possibilities, but each one seemed too forward or not forward enough, too emotional or too plain, too deep or too superficial. Finally, he settled on,

_ You’ve intrigued me as well.  _

But of course, as soon as his finger lifted from the “send” button, he hated it, and locked his phone in frustration. However, Miles hardly had time to ponder on all the ways he had made the gravest mistake with his choice of words before his phone lit up again. There was no hesitation this time, he was far too eager to see what was sent to him. 

_ I was wondering when you would finally reach out. I was beginning to think you never would.  _

Miles was stunned again. Completely speechless, and grateful he was already seated. Every instance spent inside that cafe was now being analyzed at light speed through Miles’ mind, trying desperately to find the moments that had shockingly slipped through his fingers, when he was watching Miles, too. A new warmth hit Miles’ cheekbones like the effect of one too many glasses of wine, he couldn’t believe his luck. Just the thought of him studying Miles intently enough to know that he would eventually reach out, and to be so confident that it was indeed Miles who left him a note, aroused him so thoroughly, like his entire body was being caressed. 

_ How do you know who I am? _

He couldn’t resist in asking, it was a question he now wanted to ask more than any other question he’d ever had in his whole life. 

_ You’re not the only one who watches people at the cafe, I’m afraid.  _

Now Miles was envisioning what he was doing in that moment; maybe he was also in bed, reading his book, wearing some faded t-shirt or nothing at all, the lamp from his bedside table casting him in a dim golden light, making some rouge strands of hair look blonde through illumination, his skin so soft and supple and begging to be kissed. Where did he like to be kissed? How tender was the spot behind his jaw and under his earlobe? What strange array of freckles was waiting to be seen on his back and stomach? Before letting himself get carried away, Miles focused himself at the task at hand. He could almost laugh at himself; he had the subject of his desires at his fingertips and he was still daydreaming of him. 

_ I want to hear your voice.  _

He knew this was bold, but he also knew from what he had received from his opponent that this was not going to be a small talk-filled conversation. Their volleying of question and answer would not suffice for Miles; he had waited patiently for long enough. 

_ Eager? _

Miles only had the chance to read the reply for a moment before the device in his hand began to vibrate with an incoming call, sending chills all the way down to his tailbone. All of the confidence that he had mustered suddenly vanished, and now he was uncomfortably aware of himself and his body, like an unbeknownst chill had just entered the room. Clearing his throat, which had turned so dry he could hardly swallow, he pressed the “answer” button. 

“Hello?” He felt awkward and stiff, reminding him of times his mother would put him on the phone with distant relatives, who most likely were not too keen to speak to him either. How different these two situations were. 

“Hello,” he parroted. Miles immediately sat up straighter, his hands shaking slightly at finally hearing his close voice, his voice directed at Miles, to Miles, the undivided attention he so craved. The smirk in his voice excited Miles, it was thick in a way that only arose from smoking too much, but still smooth, which made Miles think he would probably have a good singing voice. The tone itself almost posed a question,  _ are you ready to play?  _ The answer to that,  _ yes, very ready.  _

In lieu of reply, Miles just sighed, dazed. He had the phone so close to his ear, and everything around him was so quiet he could almost hear his breath on the other side of the line, calm and even, like this was hardly bothering him. 

“How did you know…” He wondered aloud. It wasn’t so much of the question  _ how did you know the note was mine?  _ but more so it was  _ how do you already see me so clearly, am I so transparent?  _ Miles still hadn’t recovered from that previous shock, and once those words left his mouth he found himself already impatient for the lilt of the others voice, to hear his answer straight from his lips, into Miles’ ears, and straight into his brain where he was sure it would stay engraved for the remainder of his life. 

“I suppose I knew from the first moment I saw you. Also, my name is Alex.”  _ Alex.  _ A trip of two steps down the tongue, Al-ex. Such an unassuming name for someone like him; was he Al to his mates? Alexander to his mother? Was Aly also used, a term of endearment saved only for lovers and his grandmother on his father’s side? Miles was sure already he was the favorite grandchild; who always made the highest marks and was the most polite at the dinner table. 

And there it also was, the confirmation this was not some imagined attraction, that somehow, Alex had heard Miles’ pleas,  _ come to me, find me.  _

“I so hoped you would. I’m Miles, also.” 

“Hello Miles.”

“Hello Alex.” Hearing his name being spoken to him by Alex was the height of any kind of pleasure, only surpassed by the future prospect of hearing what his name would sound like when moaned. 

“It’s nice to finally talk to you, not just in my head.” 

“I’d like to see you soon.”

“We should get lunch.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. At the cafe.”

“Ok.”

“Is it weird I’ve dreamt about you?”

“No, I’ve dreamt of you for months. I’ll dream of you tonight.”

“As will I. Goodnight, Miles.”

“Goodnight, Alex.”

The call was too short and too long for Miles, his whole body was on fire as he climbed under his unbearable sheets, but as it stood he still yearned for that voice, wanted to hear it for hours on end. In the whirlwind of his thoughts,  _ I’ve dreamt about you _ , steadily flowing through his mind; thinking of every possible scenario of Alex’ dreams only serving to raise his body temperature. But it wasn’t the obvious physical response that kept Miles awake long after their call had ended, it was the sensation of falling, or melting; a sensation of losing himself to the warm and erratic feeling boiling in his chest. He gladly let it infect him. 


	2. A Farewell to Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I really appreciate it :) keep 'em coming!

He was early to the cafe. Miles’ usual neuroses didn’t allow him to be tardy, or even on time, so he was left standing awkwardly in the entrance of the cafe 15 minutes before they were planned to meet. Just as he turned to go outside, to light up a cigarette to expel some of the anxiety crammed into his lungs, the door opened and there he was.  _ Alex.  _ Miles found himself smiling as soon as he landed his eyes on him,  _ him  _ in his dark jeans and thick gray wool coat, a size too big, missing his usual worn leather bag but fresh faced and pink in the cheeks, no doubt from the frosty walk over. Alex’ hair was so clean it shone almost like light through a prism, the weak mid morning light reflecting brightly on his dark tendrils. Nothing was said as Alex walked over to a booth, forgoing his usual perch, with Miles trailing behind him like an alter boy swinging a thurible. 

They sat apart from each other, watching curiously in silence, until Miles reached out and placed a few locks of that dark auburn hair behind one of Alex’ ears; an act he had wanted to commit for so long, he couldn’t even remember when the desire was conceived. The action obviously surprised Alex, who stiffened just slightly, whose eyes widened just enough to tell Miles that was outside of his realm of expectations. 

There was an awkwardness in the air, and as they continued to sit together but separately, Miles floundered to create a way to dispel it. It would be untruthful for Miles to palter that he wasn’t surprised his strategy had gotten him this far. 

“Would you like some coffee?” Miles eventually asked, using his environment to his advantage. 

“Sure, an Americano please.”

He returned with their coffees and two croissants, since they were supposed to be meeting for lunch, and Miles’ nervousness had forced him to abstain from breakfast. Alex thanked him and again there was that intrusive, loud silence, glaring down at them as they delicately tore pieces from their flaky pastries and ate them. As Alex finished his croissant, he wiped his hands together before gently placing his elbows on the table. 

“We’re being defensive.” The conclusivity with which he spoke made Miles raise his brows. 

He took a tentative sip from his coffee before replying, “I know. What do we do?” 

“Let’s act like two people who have known each other for months. We have, after all.”

Miles nodded in agreement, making note of that decisive nature which only added to Alex’ beguiling demeanor. The stifling air that was slowly suffocating them was then gradually purified, allowing them to continue on without the pretense that they were practically strangers. If you don’t want to be strangers, then why act it? Bit by bit, with every question answered and inch closer they moved, the stench of acquaintances' hesitance was replaced only by the smell of Alex’ cologne mixing with Miles’. Only hours later, Miles was completely enamored (if it were even possible to be moreso) after experiencing the feeling of being the source for all of Alex’ smiles, laughs, and blushes—not only just the source, but also the recipient. He found out Alex was a student, and his work for the school newspaper brought him back there every day, the pilgrimage from the campus to here helping to clear his mind and ready himself for writing. They were strikingly similar, yet somehow there were distinct differences about them that could qualify them as being nothing alike. 

Once the midday crowd began to mill through the wooden doors, Miles hesitantly asked if he had any other plans for his afternoon, to which he was ecstatic to hear that Alex had no other prior engagements. It seemed as though when speaking, Alex would search for every synonym for the word that was on the tip of his tongue; Miles loved when he spoke that way. He could hardly wait for that same tongue to be in his mouth, he wanted so badly to taste the thesaurus planted behind Alex’ lips. 

After their second round of coffees, Miles suggested an early dinner with drinks at a bistro a few blocks away. It was just nearing evening, and with only a croissant in his stomach, he wasn’t sure which he was more delighted at; Alex saying yes or the prospect of eating again soon. The lowering sun cast Alex in an entirely new light, one even more tantalizing than the first; golden hair replaced with thick dark locks, amber eyes now almost pitch black. When they stepped outside, Miles could hardly keep himself from wrapping himself around him, digging his nose in his hair and gently scratching Alex’ soft face with his calculated stubble. He wondered if Alex preferred men with a clean shaven face like his own, or if he enjoyed someone’s scruff scraping against his supple thighs when he sat on their face. Miles shook his head slightly in a poor attempt to dispel his thoughts as he grabbed a cigarette, offering Alex one as well out of politeness before they began their walk. 

After a few quiet steps, Alex spoke. “I feel like I’ve known you far longer than I have.”

“How long?” Miles took a glance at him, while simultaneously blowing his smoke right above Alex’ head. 

“My whole life.” 

“Me too.”

Silence fell over the rest of the walk, their hands grazing each other seldomly, but there was no bid to hold them. Despite the cold weather, Miles wanted to take all of his clothes off, and all of Alex’. Just to be as naked physically as he felt his soul was already; to take away anything holding them back. 

They reached the restaurant just as they both finished their cigarettes, and thanks to Miles being somewhat of a regular, they were sat immediately. 

“What would you like to drink? They have good wine here.” 

“Order for me.” Alex replied, the reflection of the candle flame in his eyes mistaking Miles for fire of their own. 

“What if you don’t like what I get you?”

“If we’ve known each other our whole lives, I think you know what I want.” Miles  _ was _ mistaken; that wasn’t a reflection of the candle between them on the table. 

When the waiter came Miles ordered for them; two bourbons to start, two glasses of wine to come with dinner, red for Miles and white for Alex, and for Miles the steak, Alex the fish. 

“I told you you’d know.” Alex said with a smirk after the waiter had gone. 

“I adore you.” It was almost a confession; spoken by Miles in such a hushed tone it was indeed comparable to telling your priest how you’ve sinned. “You’re blushing.”

“No I’m not.” Alex protested, but his cheeks grew darker. 

“Yes, you are.” Miles almost reached out to touch the warm skin on his face, but as he lifted his hand their waiter returned with their bourbons, and the moment was lost. 

—

After dinner they found themselves again on the sidewalk, Miles lighting Alex’ cigarette for him as they stood close. They parted slightly as they eyed each other, a small smirk playing on Alex’ face as his gaze drifted from Miles’ feet to the top of shaved head. 

“I suppose this is goodnight,” Alex said on an exhale of smoke. 

“Is it?” Miles asked, and Alex nodded in reply. Neither made any movements of parting, still a foot apart on the sidewalk, smoking. 

It wasn’t until they both stubbed out their burning cigarettes that either of them spoke again. “Goodnight, Miles.” It was then that Miles finally took Alex into his arms, even still a much smaller embrace than he wanted. Nervously, Miles went to plant a kiss on Alex’ cheek, but in his haste he actually landed on the area between his ear and jawbone. Alex’ arms vined their way around Miles’ middle, their slight size difference not going unnoticed by either of them as they stood in their embrace, invading personal boundaries and taking each other in. Miles could feel Alex’ warm breath on his neck, seeping down his collar and through his skin, warming his entire being. In that moment Miles realized how desperately he wanted to be held, to feel Alex around him, holding him in place, the scent of his hair and cologne fillings his nostrils, giving him a sense similar to coming home after a long trip, when you finally sleep in your own bed after being away too long. 

“Goodnight, Alex.” Miles said as he reluctantly withdrew, and with a subtle nod, Alex left him, hurrying across the street. Miles stood and watched, and he was delighted when Alex turned around, like he knew Miles would be watching. He waved again before scurrying down the street, wrapping his coat around him as he dissolved into the crowd. 

—

Miles was restless when he arrived back at his home. He couldn’t shut his overactive mind off, thoughts spinning around his head, especially the thought that he knew Alex wanted more, he could sense it, almost smell it, and coming home alone left him despondent, with such a sour taste in his mouth. He tried reading, even writing in a journal, but it was only a shower that seemed to help, the hot water relieving his taught muscles and slicking himself as he roughly tugged at his cock. Alex has consumed his brain, there wasn’t a single thought that wasn’t either about him, or followed by a thought that was. His mind and body has surrendered themselves over. 

He checked his phone once more as he decided to finally meet his sheets, slightly comforted at discovering there was a message from Alex waiting for him. 

_ Thank you for such a wonderful evening.  _

Miles replied,

_ You should have come home with me.  _

_ Maybe I should have. Goodnight Miles.  _

_ Goodnight Alex.  _

_ — _

The next day was agony. In having finally fulfilled part of his desires, Miles found that instead of being sated, they had only grown. His mind drifted back to all of Alex’ delicacies; the milky skin of his forearms when he rolled his sleeves, the alluring feminine quality of the dip in his lower back, his rough hands that didn't seem to match his other elegant features. He wanted to kiss his strong nose, leave bruises on his pale neck and collarbones, use his jutting hip bones as leverage. He wanted to be rough with him, only so he could be so gentle after; to wash his back and hair, planting feather light kisses to his cheek while he gently combed out the tangles in his unruly curls. Miles had had him so close the night before, he was in his arms yet now, there was so much distance and he needed so much more from Alex. 

Miles' schedule that day was too full to visit the cafe during Alex’ usual time there, but that didn’t stop him from looking longer than usual down the hallways and in the courtyards of their shared university. He still didn’t understand how they managed to evade each other so well; maybe it was indeed an act of fate intervening on their part for them to finally find each other.

The weather didn’t help either. The frost has subsided to rain storms that never let up; Miles concluding to himself that finally, the invisible fabric in the sky which held up all the rain had been ripped, and it would never stop. His search for solace always landed on Alex, with every long-haired beauty he came across sending him deeper into despair. 

_ Today is agony.  _

Usually, when trying to woo someone, any talk of negative feelings would be pushed under the bed for weeks. Until you’re laying together naked, when for a moment you feel so safe you spill your guts, no longer fearing the outcome, pulling out all of the emotional baggage from under your bed for them to look through. But with Alex, it was completely different, there was nothing off limits, for he already knew Miles better than he knew himself. 

_ I’ve been thinking about you all day. Come see me tonight.  _


	3. The Garden of Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for enjoying this story, for commenting and leaving kudos.

The thrill of what might happen, the uncertainty of what events may transpire, all swirled around the center of delight which was Alex, gave Miles again that sensation of standing too close to the ledge, one step too far, and he’s over. How desperately he wanted to jump, how delicious the thought of plunging so deep, encasing himself in the mystery he’d studied for months, which he was slowly beginning to sort out. 

_ Come see me tonight.  _

Just those four words undid all of the misery Miles had so meticulously knitted throughout his day; sending him to such a state of euphoria he now believed the stories of yogis in India who needed no food or water to survive. He hardly registered his fingers typing away,  _ of course, when, where? _ There was no use hiding his mounting ecstasy, and he suspected Alex used his powers of telepathy once again when he got his response. 

_ Now. My place.  _

Miles’ mouth was on the verge of watering when he read Alex’ address, and what shock to find they practically lived in the same neighborhood. He was already counting down the minutes as he hastily put himself together, checking his watch after each task was completed to see how time had passed. As he left his home, he checked once more, letting his heart run wild as he knew that when the short hand was on eight, Alex would be his again. Not Alex in the coffee shop, Alex who writes for the newspaper, or Alex who never shows himself in the hallways on campus, but  _ Alex _ , who dissected Miles with a glance, who saw past his soul and his desires and kept looking.  _ Alex  _ who stumbled across his sentences but knew exactly what he wanted to say, even though the more he spoke, the more Miles wanted his lips to be focused somewhere else entirely. 

Miles’ body moved autonomously as he repeated the process of rapture, but when his feet landed on the doorsteps leading to Alex’ home, he almost darted. What if the flame he had so carefully fanned was feigned? Would his passion be met? But it was Alex who had Miles in his thoughts that day, Alex who beckoned him with a siren like quality,  _ come to me _ . And how gladly Miles would let Alex pull him under, down until his back was dug into the seafloor, and then he’d only beg  _ deeper _ . 

His lungs felt full of water as he knocked on the door, and he hardly was able to cough it all up to speak before Alex opened the door; with the same fiery eyes and smirk playing on his lips as he’d had during their dinner. Alex was so open, smiling as Miles walked in, looking around to see how Alex was in his purest moments, how his home looked, with his stacks of books and CDS tucked in built-in cabinets on either side of his crackling fireplace. Miles immediately felt so comfortable, the dim lighting setting his relaxation as Alex took his coat, placing it on a hook. 

The sensation of Miles’ jacket being shed was replaced so gracefully by two hands making their way lazily around his middle, Alex’ chest pressed against his back and his breath on his ear. “I have wine.” 

Time had slowed to a point where Miles almost didn’t register his words, every single sense focused on Alex; the sound of his cold weather-dry hands scratching his jumper as they slid around his waist, the feeling of his warm body against his, the scent of vanilla pleasantly being breathed in, Alex’ breathe on which Miles could almost taste the Pinot Noir he’d chosen for them. The only sense deprived was sight, but was soon fulfilled as Alex came around his front, taking one of his hands as he led Miles to the kitchen, where two glasses and a bottle of wine were particularly sat on the counter. 

The crimson colored liquid was poured, and they stationed themselves on Alex’ couch, impossibly close, slipping easily into conversation that could easily last hours if they let it, where it was only them, the rest of the universe forgotten. 

The bottle was emptied as they sat knee to knee, completely absorbed in each other. Miles rested an arm on the back of the couch, idly playing with one of Alex’ curls while he giggled unabashedly at Miles’ unhealthy obsession with wrestling. His other hand was securely set on Alex’ thigh, while both of Alex’ were wrapped around Miles’ arm, as if to say  _ don’t even think of pulling away.  _

They grew closer and closer as Miles relished in the thought that the rest of the entire world was not privy to the goings ons inside these walls, it was just him and Alex, with gentle caresses and gazes held so steadfastly Miles was sure he’d forgotten how to blink. 

The conversation had slowly lulled to a halt, and now they were communicating wordlessly as Miles gently ran his thumb across Alex’ cheekbone, as if he was pushing away an invisible tear. Instead of the reaction he’d received in the coffee shop, Alex being hesitant to receive the touch, —which could’ve been yesterday or years ago in the lifetime they’ve spent together— Alex closed his eyes and leaned in just enough, to show he was willing but not too eager. Alex was almost comparable to a cat; slow deliberate movements, cautious always, but once you’ve gained his trust and affection, you won’t be able to keep him from nuzzling at your hand, waiting for another pet. 

Miles placed his palm on Alex’ warm cheek, his fingers reaching enough to just barely tangle themselves in with the tight curls on the back of Alex’ neck. 

“Miles…” Alex said softly, but with a slight seriousness that would have had Miles at attention if not for the hypnotizing quality of his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask.”  _ You don’t have to ask for anything, I’m in your possession.  _

The kiss they shared was tender, but the curl of Alex’ lips as he pressed them to Miles’ showed he had no interest in stopping. 

—

Miles wasn’t sure how he ended up on Alex’ bed, he couldn’t remember and didn’t try to recollect, because all he felt and thought of were Alex’  _ hands _ -all over his body and undressing him, groping him and taking hold. Miles found himself frantically working on his belt, trying to stay focused as Alex’ lips connected to his neck again, his teeth grazing his pulse point and Miles wanted so badly for him to bite down and draw blood, so every kiss thereafter was ingrained with the taste of the essence of life. 

Alex sat up to rid himself of his shirt, the weight of his hips pushing Miles into the soft mattress. Miles for a moment thought his skin was glistening as Alex’ bare torso was illuminated by the bedside lamp; he looked like an angel sent to earth straight from heaven. Miles ran a hand from Alex’ stomach to his heart, before leaning up to kiss his chest and snake his hands around to the small of Alex’ back. His skin was warm and smooth, providing no restrictions to Miles’ roaming hands. 

“You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen in my life,” Miles said breathlessly, finally switching their positions so he could successfully vacate their bodies of the rest of their clothing. Alex procured the necessary items from the bedside table, handing them to Miles before laying down on his back, spreading his legs to welcome him in. Alex caressed his own inner thigh before he placed his hands on his knees, achieving in completely knocking the wind from Miles’ chest without even touching him. 

Miles’ mantra of “you’re so beautiful” and “you’re so gorgeous” didn’t stop as he opened Alex up, stretching him to accommodate the girth of Miles’ thick cock. Alex’ back arched gracefully as he pushed himself further on to Miles’ fingers, his hands gripping the sheets as Miles gave his throbbing dick a few generous tugs. 

“Look at me, look at me,” Alex panted, keeping his gaze firmly locked on Miles even when blissful moans spilled from his lips. It was such an intense and intimate scene, and Miles obeyed, keeping his eyes open even when he gave Alex a hot, open mouthed kiss, and Alex did the same. Miles was aching once Alex was finally ready for him, and quickly slicked his cock before positioning himself between Alex’ legs. Miles had dreamed about what if would feel like, how Alex would look, how he would act, for months, but nothing compared to when he actually slid inside, inch by tantalizing inch. The feeling of being inside him, so secure and filled to the brim with lust, was unlike any other experience Miles had had with anyone else. The pleasure of every thrust, the sound of every squeak of the mattress and bed frame, every noise the came out of Alex’ perfect mouth, was a beautiful symphony of all the worship Miles had devoted to Alex over what seemed like an eternity, with every single morsel of built up desire pouring itself out, being in so deep he wasn’t sure where Alex began and he ended. 

“Look at me, look into my eyes,” Alex repeated, placing his hand on Miles’ cheek, unwilling for Miles to be anywhere but in that exact moment, feeling exactly what Alex felt. It gave them a connection only long time lovers seem to have, with Miles knowing precisely when Alex’ orgasm was nearing. Teetering on the edge of the abyss, Miles took them over at the same time, the release being not only orgasmic but calming, like finally finding the person you want to close the ledger of your life, the person who you want to close your eyes. How dearly Miles hoped he felt the same, and when he kept looking in that deep stare, Alex was reciprocating everything, telling Miles he’d cross the world to close his eyes someday. 

Neither of them began to move from the hold they had on each other until they caught their breaths, and Miles’ spent erection was too sensitive to stay in the warmth between Alex’ legs. His mind and body were hazy in post-coital euphoria, and he drug his body up the bed to be next to the celestial body once under him. 

Alex kissed him languidly, hooking his knee over Miles’ hip, and Miles grabbed his ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. “How long has it been?”

“Since what?” Miles asked, too tired to fire up his sluggish brain to connect the dots. 

“Since we met.” Alex punctuated his sentence with a kiss.

“I dunno, days, months, years…” 

“The rest of it was just leading up to this.” Another kiss.

“I think so.”

“Smoke with me?”

“Sure.”

If this was a dream Miles never wanted to wake, for in dreams you fall in love and stay there, no matter the time that has passed and time passing. In this dream like reality, at that moment, it was everything he’d prayed for, hoped for, longed for. He wondered how he managed so long without him, why he waited so long in the first place.

~~_ I know nothing about you. I don’t know your name, who you are, where you live, what you do… You’re unaware that I long for you, and that every night I lull myself to sleep, thinking that I’m cradled in your arms and you in mine.  _ ~~

_ I know everything about you. Your name is always on the tip of my tongue, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, here in your bed in the walls of your home. You know how much I long for you, even now, as I lull myself to sleep, cradled in your arms and you in mine. _


End file.
